Aftermath
by Peachuzoid
Summary: Trapped inside the boxcar, it was Carl who noticed first: Something was wrong with Daryl. (Or, where Daryl's injuries make themselves known and the group works together to escape the wrath of Terminus.) Discontinued.
1. Chapter 1

**This is going to be more of a ramble than anything, but I figured I'd go ahead and put this out there. A prompt on the kinkmeme inspired me and here I am, way in over my head. It is very late and I should be in bed. And I should have waited to post this. Oh well, I guess. Enjoy?**

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Any form of light was growing dimmer as the day slowly folded into night. The wind howled as it cut through the small cracks of the train car. A clash of thunder boomed in the distance, warning of an oncoming storm.

"I don't understand. What's the plan here?" Sasha got back on her feet, arms crossed.

Up until this point, train car A had been fairly silent. Not wanting to give away any meaningful information, or a plot devised against these people of Terminus. Everyone was growing impatient.

Rick placed a palm in the air, signaling for Sasha to lower her voice, knowing there had to be someone on guard close by. Probably more than one.

He got back on his feet as well. "I'm still trying to work through some things."

"Well, maybe you'd like to enlighten us on what these _plans_ of yours might consist of," Abraham started in.

And that simple line was what had everyone all worked up, back on their feet in an instant. Agitated. Pointing fingers and raising voices. Mostly between Abraham and Rick. The others joined in when it felt necessary to back who they believed.

It was Carl who noticed first. Realized that someone was missing from the fray. Someone who typically had something to say when the going got tough. And he was being remarkably quiet.

"Daryl?" Carl squinted in the looming darkness. He could make out Daryl's form sitting in the corner. But he didn't have his knees pulled up with his arms resting across them like he had earlier. No. He looked like he was unconscious.

Carl inched forward, got down on a knee beside him. Reached out and grabbed his jacket clad arm. It would have usually elicited some type of response, but this time he received nothing except silence.

"Guys!" Carl tried to yell over the commotion. "Guys, stop!"

It grabbed Michonne and Eugene's attention first. Then Tara's. Rick and Abraham were still going strong. Sasha, Rosita, Glenn, and Maggie were only seeming to fuel the fire at this point.

"Something's wrong with Daryl!"

Those words brought the train car right back to silence. How it had been for most of the time they had spent there so far.

"What do you mean? Was he shot?" Glenn stepped forward, his voice heavily laced with concern.

"But he was just fine?" Maggie furrowed her brow.

Michonne, having noticed Carl's cries for help before the lot of them, had already joined his side. She stooped beside Daryl, cupped his face. Examined his features.

She stood up straight and placed a hand to Carl's forehead, causing him to blink in confusion.

"He feels cool. Colder than Carl, definitely."

"Is he breathing?" Rick's voice was full of panic once he noticed Daryl sitting unconscious in the corner. He made his way back over to them, immediately taking a knee and searching for a pulse.

Without another word, Bob took the liberty to step forth and do what he could. Everyone made way for him as he situated himself beside Daryl.

"What happened?" Bob inquired. He looked to Rick for an explanation since Daryl had been with him, he looked a bit roughed up, and Rick was the closest in proximity of the three.

"He took some hard hits. Two against one." Rick rubbed his face. "That's the short version."

Bob checked Daryl's carotid pulse before working his jacket and shirt undone. He seemed to stare at his chest a moment before gingerly running a hand across Daryl's ribs. And since Bob had brought attention to it, there were some deep shades of purple splattered across Daryl's left side.

"His breathing is compromised," Bob concluded. "Not entirely, but enough. I don't think he's getting enough oxygen."

Rick crouched down, balancing his elbows on his knees as he held his own head. How had they not seen it before? Why hadn't Daryl said anything?

"What do we do?" Tara questioned.

And before anyone could reply, say or do anything else, Rick was back on his feet. He marched the short distance to the door and slammed his fist against it. Desperation had piqued:

"I know someone is out there! I know you can hear me! We need help! One in our group is hurt, and he's not breathing!"

Things seemed to be at a standstill. It was absolutely silent for the longest time. Thoughts were racing. What if Daryl ended up dying due to asphyxiation? He'd come back. They didn't have any of their weapons. They wouldn't _want_ to put him down, if it came to that.

Then there were muted mumbles, from outside the train car. Couldn't have been far. They had to have heard Rick's plea.

"Hey, assholes!" Tara's outburst half startled Rick as she pounded the palm of her hand against the metal. He was pleasantly surprised to see her put forth such an effort to help. "Open the door!"

There was another brief moment of silence followed by a heavy sigh. Some kind of metal clanked together. Most likely some sort of lock.

"Everyone get back, and don't try anything," a male voice warned through the door.

Seeing no point in arguing with that, everyone followed the order. They stepped back just as the door slid open, the grinding of metal on worn metal reverberating through the car.

There was a subtle click and a bright light that temporarily blinded everyone, footfalls belonging to two people, before they realized it was a flashlight. And it was soon trained on Daryl. His skin had already taken on a pale, sickly appearance.

"Just... stay put. We'll find some help for your friend."

The two men carrying AKs strapped around their torsos began to retreat. One had grabbed the handle to the door and initially yanked it to pull it shut. It moved, but not very fast.

"You're kidding, right?" Glenn stepped forward but threw his hands up into the air to show he meant no harm. "You can't just leave!"

A sudden hand reached out, body hidden from their view. Landed on the man's shoulder who held the door. And whatever happened between the newcomer and the men on guard, the door fully reopened.

"And wouldn't you know it." Gareth stepped out into the opening. "Help just arrived."


	2. Chapter 2

UPDATE: I am reposting this chapter due to a few additions and tweaking, and have deleted chapters 3-5 for the time being. Sorry for any inconvenience.

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"Bring him out of there. Get him to the infirmary," Gareth commanded. He had taken one step into the train car, borrowed a flashlight for all of two seconds, and made the call, stepping back outside.

Rick narrowed his eyes in a glare. He didn't like the thought of them taking Daryl off to who knows where. Didn't have a clue what they could be capable of, or why they were all locked in a boxcar. But he had to assume it was better than just leaving him.

The two men shuffled back into the car to haul Daryl off as Bob made a request:

"Maybe I could come with." He elaborated further, "I was a medic in the army. Do you guys have anyone who qualifies for something like this? You'll be in way over your heads, otherwise."

"And I suppose you know what's best, right?" There was a mocking tone in Gareth's voice.

"He can help," Sasha spoke up. "And I know we'd feel a lot better knowing Daryl's in good hands."

Gareth hesitantly nodded. He signaled for them to come on, Bob and his two men, along with Daryl. Bob had taken to Daryl's side and was about to pull him up when Rick interrupted.

"If he's going, I am too."

This actually brought a smile to Gareth's face as the two men protested that he stay. That he was a threat and he couldn't be trusted.

"Ringleader," Gareth acknowledged Rick. He threw his arms up at his sides, the same fake smile plastered on his face. "Why not? They say, the more the merrier."

Rick caught Michonne's stare boring into him, her eyes partially widened in shock, her brow furrowed in discontentment. He gave her an affirming nod that it would be okay. Exchanged glances with Carl and received a nod in return. Knew his son was in good hands. Safer in the boxcar with the others. And without wasting anymore time, Rick took Daryl's other side and helped Bob support him.

As much as he wanted to attack Gareth and his two friends right then and there, he knew it was suicide. Knew it was a possibility there were others hidden in the shadows that could be watching, making sure they didn't get out of hand.

Knew there had to be another way to escape. One that didn't put anyone's life in jeopardy.

Rick exchanged a glance with Bob before turning his attention back ahead of him, following Gareth. The two armed men had stayed behind with the boxcar. Gareth's order. And it made Rick want to jump him that much more, especially with his back to them, and as they turned down an alley and entered into a building.

"Awfully brave of you to lead the way," Rick pointed out. He observed everything he could as they walked along. Took note of how many turns they took, what doors they walked through. The candles and lanterns set up to light a path through the place. The letter D marked by some of the doors.

"Sometimes, us leaders have to do the work ourselves. Make sure it's done right. But I'm guessing you know all about that." Gareth stopped at the third door, the second one on the right, as he placed a hand on the handle and looked back at them. "Plus, I like to assume you're smart enough not to pull anything."

Gareth opened the door and ushered Rick and Bob to go first. Rick was surprised to see the room was fairly empty, minus the couple tables and two old hospital-like beds. Ones that looked like they had come from an insane asylum, straps to hold down wrists and ankles. Rick was hesitant, but with Bob's help, was able to get Daryl up and onto one of the beds.

"Gonna need a knife. Something sharp. And some kind of small tubing." Bob immediately started up with his list. He began to pull at Daryl's jacket and Rick took that as his cue to help lift Daryl up so Bob could get the clothing article off and out of the way. "And a glass of water."

"Is that all?" Gareth inquired.

Bob replied, "For now, yes."

"I'll see what I can do." Gareth retreated back to the only opening in the room and left without another word. Somehow, he seemed too civil. It put Rick on edge.

"Is this something you've done before? What you're about to do?" Rick questioned Bob now that they were alone. He kept his voice down regardless. Wanted to stay focused on the task at hand.

Bob rolled up his sleeves. Daryl's vest and jacket had been tossed aside for the moment as he began to work on Daryl's shirt.

"I've experienced a variety of things. But this specifically? Once."

"And how'd that work out?" Rick flicked his eyes over Bob's hands. The man seemed steady. Confident.

"Didn't." Bob frowned. "Guy was shot in the lung. Time wasn't on our side."

Rick shut his eyes and grabbed onto the side of the bed for support. He felt like he had just gotten Daryl back. He had just gotten _everyone_ back. "I was hoping for something a little more reassuring..."

"The reassuring part is that Daryl is still breathing. He's just unconscious because he's not getting enough oxygen. Which I can fix, with the right stuff."

The door swung open at Gareth's return as if on cue. He carried exactly what Bob had requested: a knife, some sort of clear plastic tube, and a glass of water.

"Everything is sterilized to the best of my ability. Who would have thought this little thing from a spray bottle would have come in handy." Gareth waved the tube in the air before setting it down on a table, along with the glass of water. He held the knife by the handle but flipped it in the air so that he caught it by the tip of the blade, making his way around the table and closer to Bob and Rick. He extended his arm out toward them, but it was Rick who closed the gap.

Rick stopped just in front of him. Locked eyes as Gareth looked to the knife and back to Rick, the slightest smirk curving the right side of his lips upward. It was a challenge.

Rick cautiously gripped the handle. His heart was racing in his chest at how easy it would be. He could most likely overpower Gareth. Gareth didn't seem like much, but he seemed to be the one calling the shots. All it would take is one thrust forward with the blade and their chances of escaping would soar through the roof.

However, Rick only placed his arm back down at his side with the knife. Even if he could kill Gareth that easily in a blocked off room, it still didn't provide a safe way out. And even if he and Bob were able to escape and make it to the others, or to their weapons, or just made a break for it, Daryl's life was at stake without the small surgery Bob had in mind. And Daryl's life wasn't worth any of it.

Rick brought the things back over to Bob and set them on a table that he had pulled over. He couldn't shake the feeling that he made the wrong decision, once again.

Bob's hand clasped his shoulder, bringing his attention to the man. "It'll be okay."

Rick barely nodded.

The room was silent from then on out. Gareth was propped up against the door with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Rick stood by in case Bob needed an extra set of hands after they were able to reposition Daryl onto his right side.

Bob pulled the side of Daryl's button up shirt aside instead of removing it. He pulled Daryl's left arm up and toward his own head so it was out of the way. He suggested, "You might want to hold his arm down."

Rick grabbed Daryl's wrist as Bob steadied the tip of the knife against Daryl's chest. He watched as Bob plunged the blade down between Daryl's ribs and cringed. Daryl's arm twitched, his eyes shut tight as the slightest whimper escaped from his throat. Rick held stronger to make sure Daryl didn't lash out too much.

It was once Bob inserted the tube into the wound, placing the other end into the glass of water, that Daryl sort of came back around. He coughed and sputtered, the clear tubing and water tinging red due to blood. Bob placed a hand on Daryl's shoulder, knowing the procedure had to be uncomfortable.

Rick dared to look over toward Gareth. The young man seemed rather amused. Maybe even impressed. Though he was still perched against the door.

"And so the Archer lives."

"He should be fine now. Probably just took a rough hit, might've bruised some ribs. This set up will help equal out the pressure around his lung so he can breathe a little easier," Bob explained.

Gareth pushed himself off the door and walked forward, hands clasped together in front of him. "That's great news, really. But to answer your earlier question... No, we don't have anyone here quite as qualified as yourself. Bravo." He turned to Rick. "Change of plans. Let's take a walk."

"Why?" Rick mulled over his choice of words before settling on the one.

"That wasn't a request," Gareth replied, stern.

"I'm not leaving him. Either of them."

"Let's let the nice Doctor do his work so Archer doesn't die on us. We wouldn't want his fragile little life to come to such an abrupt end, would we?"

Rick exchanged glances with Bob. He couldn't get much a of read. Just that Bob remained very calm about the whole situation. At least on the outside. Rick felt like he was slowly crumbling, himself.

Seeing no other option, he followed Gareth back out of the room and started down the hall beside him. If memory served him well, they were headed back the way they came.

"Not so much of a Ringleader without your circus."

Rick bit his tongue from saying anything back. And as they passed the metal cargo crates, he suddenly recalled hearing people screaming from inside them. But it was silent now. Whatever had happened to those people, they were gone. He knew he hadn't just imagined them. Because Daryl heard them too.

"Tell me something, Rick."

Rick stopped at the usage of his actual name. The second time Gareth had chose to use it. He turned to face the younger man, cautious yet curious.

Gareth licked his lips as he too came to a halt. There was the slightest smirk again just before he continued, "How much do you care about your people?"

Rick contemplated what Gareth could be getting at. Drawing a blank, he replied, "They're my family."

"So, enough to do anything to keep them safe?" Gareth must have read Rick through his facial expressions, knowing there wasn't a verbal answer coming. "I'm astounded. Because the funny thing is, your group seemed so _open_. They didn't have a problem coming in here and giving us a little trust. No casualties."

"My people don't give up easily. I don't know how you tricked—"

"No tricks. You're missing the point, Rick. They _trusted_ us. Had the smallest inkling of blind faith in us. A sense of hope and optimism in a dying world." There was a static over the walkie talkie before a voice cut through on it. Gareth shut it off before Rick could interpret anything. "Where does that leave you then? The old, miserable killing machine?"

"I do what has to be done." Rick eyed the talkie on Gareth's belt just as Gareth pulled his jacket over to conceal it.

He didn't realize how much truth seemed to be in Gareth's words though. What _did_ that make him? He couldn't help but question whether his mind and heart were in the right place after all.

No. He stood by his decisions. Had he not, he wouldn't be standing. Carl wouldn't still be there.

Regardless, Rick feared for Daryl's life, and even Bob's, whether he cooperated or not. Nothing seemed to add up. All he knew was that he'd have to break everyone out of there before it was too late.


End file.
